


History Repeating

by skywalkersamidala



Category: I Medici | Medici: Masters of Florence (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Childhood, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-27 03:04:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21385036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skywalkersamidala/pseuds/skywalkersamidala
Summary: Francesco hated Giuliano from the first time he saw him.
Relationships: Giuliano de' Medici & Francesco de' Pazzi, Lorenzo "Il Magnifico" de' Medici & Francesco de' Pazzi, Lorenzo "Il Magnifico" de' Medici & Giuliano de' Medici
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47





	History Repeating

**Author's Note:**

> As always I had to do some guesswork with the ages, so I went with the historical 4-year age difference between Lorenzo and Giuliano and then aged Francesco down to be the same age as Lorenzo (historically he was 5 years older, but in the childhood flashbacks in the show they seem about the same age)

Francesco hated Giuliano from the first time he saw him. Well, not the first time he saw _him, _because Giuliano was only a baby and four-year-old Francesco didn’t find him interesting enough to have an opinion about him alone.

No, Francesco hated Giuliano from the first time he saw how much Lorenzo loved him.

He and Guglielmo had accompanied their parents to Giuliano’s christening, and at first Francesco was eager to see him because he thought maybe he could be a new playmate for him and Lorenzo. But he was very disappointed when he saw that baby Giuliano wasn’t capable of doing anything but flailing his limbs around and gurgling unintelligibly.

“He’s boring,” Francesco announced.

“Francesco, don’t be rude,” Nicolosa scolded while Antonio stifled a laugh. “He’s absolutely precious, Lucrezia. And he’s got his father’s eyes.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” Lucrezia said fondly. “Yes, Lorenzo, what is it?”

For Lorenzo was tugging on her skirt. “Can I hold him, Mama? Please?”

“Of course, darling, just be careful. Lorenzo’s been asking to hold him constantly,” Lucrezia added to Nicolosa and Antonio. “He’s taken to being an older sibling much better than Bianca did, I remember she threw a fit when Lorenzo was born.”

Nicolosa laughed. “It was just like this with our boys too, Guglielmo never wanted to put Francesco down after we let him hold him for the first time.”

At the moment Guglielmo and Bianca were off in a corner of the room playing by themselves, as they always did, and Antonio wandered away to talk with Piero and some other important men. But Francesco stayed with his mother and watched Lucrezia carefully place Giuliano into Lorenzo’s arms, feeling a wave of jealousy sweep through him as he saw the way Lorenzo beamed down at his brother. Lorenzo used to look at _him _like that.

“Look at him, Cecco,” Lorenzo said happily, not even bothering to look up at Francesco when he spoke to him. “Isn’t he the best?”

“No,” Francesco sulked. “He’s ugly.” (He was, all pink and wrinkly.)

That got Lorenzo’s attention. “You can’t say that about my brother!” he said, glaring at Francesco.

“I can so! I hate him!”

Lorenzo started to cry, and Nicolosa scolded Francesco and apologized to Lucrezia before grabbing Francesco by the arm and dragging him away. “You mustn’t say things like that, Francesco,” she said once they were out of earshot. “Lorenzo is your friend, and Giuliano will be too.”

Francesco stuck his lower lip out in a pout. “No, he won’t. I hate him,” he said stubbornly.

“You can’t possibly hate him, he’s only a baby.”

“Lorenzo only cares about him now, he doesn’t love me anymore!” Francesco said, and he promptly burst into tears too.

Nicolosa sighed and knelt down to hug him. “Brothers will always have a special bond. You know that,” she said, patting him on the back. “But it doesn’t mean Lorenzo doesn’t love you anymore.”

Francesco sniffled and clung to her. If brothers had a special bond, why was Guglielmo with Bianca right now instead of him? And if Lorenzo still loved him, why was he cooing over his brother and glaring at Francesco when their eyes met across the room?

It wasn’t fair. He wanted Lorenzo back. He wished Giuliano had never been born.

* * *

**3 Years Later**

Francesco was in the courtyard of the Medici home, waiting for Lorenzo to return with the new toy he’d said he wanted to show him. He heard the pitter-patter of feet and turned to look, but scowled when he saw it was only Giuliano.

“Cec-co,” Giuliano said as he tottered over to him.

Francesco’s scowl deepened. “That’s not my name.”

“Cec-co, play with me!”

“No. Lorenzo and I are playing by ourselves.”

“I want to play too!”

“You can’t.”

“Why?” Giuliano asked, grabbing his hand and pulling on it.

“Because I don’t want to play with you,” Francesco said, yanking his hand out of Giuliano’s grasp.

But Giuliano wasn’t deterred and lunged for him more aggressively this time. “Let me play, Cecco! You’re mean!”

“Let go of me! _Ouch!” _Francesco exclaimed as Giuliano pinched him hard on the arm. He angrily shoved Giuliano backwards, and all right, maybe it was a harder shove than he’d intended, but he didn’t think Giuliano had cause to start crying _that _loudly when he hit the ground.

And of course, it was just at that moment that Lorenzo returned. He gasped and tossed his new wooden horse carelessly aside in favor of hurrying over to his brother. “Giuliano! What happened?”

“Cecco pushed me!” Giuliano wailed.

“What?” Lorenzo turned his head to give Francesco an angry look. “Francesco! Why would you do that?”

“He started it! He pinched me!” Francesco said.

“I wanted to play!”

“It’s not his fault, Francesco, he’s little, he doesn’t know any better,” Lorenzo said, giving him one last glare before turning his attention back to Giuliano, hugging and kissing him until he stopped crying.

Of course Lorenzo would take Giuliano’s side, Francesco thought bitterly. He always did. It was always “Giuliano this” and “Giuliano that,” Giuliano, Giuliano, Giuliano. It wasn’t fair. Guglielmo loved Bianca more than he loved Francesco, so Francesco had thought that Lorenzo was supposed to be _his. _But Giuliano had come and stolen him away.

“I’m going home,” Francesco said crossly, but Lorenzo wasn’t even paying him any attention, so he slunk off in a huffy silence to find his mother and Lucrezia.

* * *

**20 Years Later**

“Everything all right?” Lorenzo said a little warily.

“Oh yes, I was just having a nice chat with your new brother,” Giuliano said, his voice like the edge of a knife. He turned around and shouldered his way back through the crowd.

Lorenzo watched him go in bemusement before looking back at Francesco. “What’s gotten into him?”

Francesco shook his head to say he didn’t know, but he knew exactly what it was. Lorenzo had never been fully aware of it, but there had always been an unspoken battle for his affections between Francesco and Giuliano, ever since the latter was born.

But for the first time, Francesco seemed to be winning, he thought a few minutes later as he leaned down to kiss his new godson’s tiny little hand. He had been completely caught off-guard when Lorenzo had asked him to be Piero’s godfather. Francesco had assumed he would ask Giuliano; it hadn’t occurred to him that he would even be considered, let alone chosen.

He was no longer a child, so he was mature enough now not to feel any smugness or triumph at Lorenzo’s favoring him over Giuliano (or at least, not _much _smugness or triumph). No, what Francesco really felt was pride, pride that Lorenzo trusted him so much, and happiness at having so many moments of his undivided attention the way he’d always wanted.

Until Jacopo made him see that the whole thing was a sham and Lorenzo had only been pretending to care about him in order to use him as a pawn in his plans for Medici primacy in Florence. _Of course, _Francesco thought bitterly. _Did you ever think he would truly choose you?_

* * *

As Francesco felt Giuliano’s blood soaking his hands, he glanced down at Lorenzo on the floor and for a split second, their gazes met. For a split second, Francesco could see his eyes wide and shocked and hurt.

_Francesco! Why would you do that? It’s not his fault, Francesco, he’s little, he doesn’t know any better._

For a split second, Francesco was taken out of his surroundings so that all he could see was that small wooden horse lying abandoned on the floor.


End file.
